


Meeting of minds

by Boxcult (Brynnen), Brynnen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Feeling Out of Place, First Meeting, Gen, Omnic Crisis, Tracer makes friends, cameraderie, occasional British swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynnen/pseuds/Boxcult, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynnen/pseuds/Brynnen
Summary: One way Tracer and Winston could have first met.Bemusement and cockney glee.





	Meeting of minds

**Author's Note:**

> This can follow on from my earlier story Down to Earth with a Bump, but reads coherently without it - one detail is referenced, but it is pretty minor.
> 
> Basically Tracer and Winston are BFFs and I can't understand why the rest of this fandom is not as delighted by that as I am. So I'm bumping up the available body of fan-love for their friendship.

Lena sighed and drummed her bootheels against the packing crate on which she sat. She hadn't expected her secondment from the RAF to Overwatch to be so bloody boring!

Yeah, a pilot's life tended to involve a lot of 'hurry up and wait' while the Met Office boys or the linies did their stuff, but this was a total pisstake! She'd flown barely a dozen sorties since she'd arrived two months ago and yeah, getting to fly all these different 'planes was nice, none of this was really hard enough to warrant OW poaching her from the RAF, they already had plenty of pilots capable of flying those missions. What was she doing here, really?

'Alright, no more flying this shift. You're off-duty now, Oxton.' Her CO shooed her out of the hangar with a weary sigh. He looked preoccupied, probably trying to work out what the Hell the Omnic conclave on the Ruhr was planning this time. The sour smell of coffee hung about him like a cloud and Lena wondered when he'd last got a decent night's sleep. At least he was helping in the fight.

She acknowledged the order with a brisk salute and then headed off in search of entertainment. Maybe Mercy had some good gossip to catch her up on! The beautiful doctor was one of the bright points in an otherwise unimpressive OW career.

'Hey Angie! How's it going?' Lena burst into the lab, hoping Angie's creepy research-buddy wasn't in. Moira wasn't, but Angie had unexpected company. 'Gorilla?!?'

Said gorilla was dangling from some kind of rope swing by his feet, tablet and stylus in his hands as he seemed to be working on something. At her surprised ejaculation he swung down to floor level and set the tablet down on a nearby desk.

Lena took in the huge, black-furred frame, the sheer bulk of his massive frame, the prehensile toes, the heavy-framed glasses perched awkwardly on his snout. Her brain short-circuited again. 'Gorilla?'

'Uh, I prefer Winston, Miss...?'

'He prefers Winston.' Lena informed the quiet lab bemusedly. She hadn't drunk that much or Torbjon's terrifying coffee.... She really shouldn't be seeing things after only one mug of the stuff. What the Hell, life was short and how many people could boast of dossing about with a talking gorilla named Winston?

She stuck out her hand for a friendly shake. 'I'm Lena, codename Tracer! I'm a pilot! From the RAF, on loan from Brize Norton!' She managed to restrain herself from blurting out her age and favourite colour like a primary school kid.

The palm of his hand was warm and smooth, like sun-warmed leather and Winston grasped her hand with obvious care not to crush it, letting her do the heavy lifting in the shake.

'I'm uh... helping some of the scientists here with data analysis at the moment. You were looking for Dr Ziegler?'

Lena shrugged, 'I was looking for a bit of company, Angie and I get on pretty well.'

'She's very kind.' Winston agreed, adjusting his spectacles nervously. 'I think she's sponsoring me, acting as guarantor of my good-behaviour to the higher-ups.'

Lena started to nod along with that, but the absurdity of the situation was too much. 'Sorry what? You're a bleedin' gorilla doing data analysis in my mate's laboratory. What the Hell is going on?' She wailed in confusion.

'Ah.' Winston fiddled with his stylus and looked down at the tiny female's outburst. 'I'm from the moon, but there was an uprising so I built a rocket and fled to Earth for my safety. After a period of captivity, I was allowed to join Overwatch provisionally to help earn my keep.' He ran a finger around the interior surface of the loathsome collar the shock-device that marked him as simultaneously sub-human and inherently untrustworthy.

'You're a moon-gorilla-refugee-data analyst?' Tracer giggled to string the chain of nouns together.

'Moon-gorilla-refugee-scientist.' Winston corrected with the utmost dignity.

A giggle interrupted him before he could continue and this Tracer grinned at him. 'You're out've your comfort zone too then? Me'n you are just two poor confused bastards trying to work out how the Hell to make our place in Overwatch.'

She punched his shoulder gently in some sort of gesture of solidarity, Winston posited. 'Moon-gorilla-scientist and RAF-loaner-pilot. You'n me, mate, they won't know what hit 'em!'

Winston wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he suspected he had somehow just made a friend.


End file.
